The Fool's War
by Lancynth
Summary: Humor. The Alumni Committee Head of the Lake Victoria Class of AC 191 narrates the chronicles of April Fool's Day events at the old Academy, mainly looking at the pranks between 6 and 9--and how the Academy survived their personal war...
1. Splashdown! or Hey, This Beats Watching ...

The Fool's War  
  
File #1: Splashdown! or Hey, This Beats Watching The WWF!  
  
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Disclaimer--No, I do not own the main characters, but the accessories, yes. And the imagination that put this together--but there's no way any amount of suing can get you that, so HA! Some of the characters are Gundam Wing's, not mine (Bansai and Sunrise, however the guys with the rights call themselves), but Val is definitely original. I do this for fun, or I wouldn't be in grad school trying to get a more paying job!  
  
Notes: it hints slight 6x9, but that could just be wishful thinking. Part of a grouping I'm calling "Reunion Days", which means it can be a sidefic to anything, being but snippets of the two during quieter moments (heh heh-- quiet, surrrrre). . . from the point of the poor Alumni Committee leader for the Graduating Class of AC 191 of Lake Victoria. Humor more than anything else. . .  
  
I couldn't resist.  
  
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It's that time of year again, you know.  
  
Hell, we had better have ambulances on hand, and a couple sturdy fire trucks, because God only knows what's going to happen! Those two. . . ARGH! And it's entirely my fault, you know. I really never should have gotten that idea into Noin's head. . .  
  
But then, maybe this was what kept them alive through the rest of the wars. You never know. Maybe I did them a favor. Maybe I did something for the good of humanity?  
  
Yeah right.  
  
I think I can hear the others already cursing me, even if they aren't here.  
  
Yeah, well, it's too late now, guys. Shut up already! /I'm/ the one who has to make sure they don't level Lake Victoria between them, remember?  
  
**Mutter mutter grumble** I never should have accepted the role of Alumni Committee Head of the Class of 191, though in truth, I think I got the appointment to this position by default. . .  
  
Nobody else was stupid enough to give in when pressed.  
  
Hmph. "Mission Impossible" indeed. . . Do I look like Tom Cruise to you?!? I've good right to pity myself. See the empty chairs here? That was the rest of the committee. Or is. Oh, they're coming to the reunion all right. It's guaranteed to be amusing if you're the one NOT caught in the crossfire. But plan it? They know better than to even try!  
  
Unlike me, I guess.  
  
Well, you're here, so maybe you'd be willing to lend a hand. . . All right, be that way. I'll manage on my own. I did every year before this.  
  
**Sigh**  
  
Reunions are a lot safer around those two than April Fool's Day. I should know--I've endured both. Even if they're half a world away, April Fool's is the best day of the year to snuggle back in your blankets--and hide /under/ the bed.  
  
Trust me. . .  
  
Because I helped with that first prank. Not that I intended to!  
  
The more fool me. . .  
  
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Noin watched the valedictorian stride off to his next class with a soft sigh, a sound of frustration that remained trapped in her end of the mess hall and probably never reached his ears. Or was politely ignored. Quiet, smooth, always proper and polite.  
  
That shell had to crack.  
  
//Or I'm going to grab those damn sunglasses and crack /them/, to get a reaction!// She propped her cheek on one hand, feeling glum. //I just spent a good half hour talking to him, and got /nowhere/! I'm friends with him, but that means we talk shop and little things, it seems. And that's a step up from "acquaintance", which apparently means he acknowledges your presence with the occasional nod and murmur and talks to you when he must. . .//  
  
Dark eyes narrowed determinedly into empty space.  
  
//That does it. Zechs is going to crack, or I refuse to graduate!//  
  
Something flopped into a seat next to her, and a curious voice inquired unobservantly, "So Zechs is off to Advanced Theoretical Mechanics? Gods, if that's what it means to be top of your class, I'll stay lowly, thanks. There's more to life than studying. . . not that he seems to know, though. Our valedictorian seems to have about as much interest in mingling with the rest of society as in buying used earplugs."  
  
Noin glanced at the short, plain girl in glasses next to her, taking in the slight smirk and sparkling grey eyes. //True enough. . .// "Yeah, well, I don't see /your/ nose pressed into the books more than necessary, Val."  
  
A shrug moved wild mouse-brown hair. "There's /liking/ what you're learning, and then there's selling your soul to it. I believe in the Law of Moderation. All edible things are healthy if in moderation, and so for everything we /do/ with the rest of our bodies. And that means the work- play ratio. But your friend doesn't seem to do anything /but/ extremes."  
  
Spreading her hands, Noin smiled wryly. "That's Zechs for you." //Zechs /is/ the extreme. I'm not sure I can endure it, either. But what choice have we?//  
  
"In a nutshell, it seems. Hopefully not literally anytime soon, though. It would definitely drive /me/ nuts. . . How long is it now? A year? We've all just become second-years. Hard to remember that. . . ," Val mused, imitating Noin by propping chin on hand as well. "God help the teachers. And us! Anyway. . . Well, you're his friend. Maybe his /only/ friend. /Do/ something!"  
  
Noin snorted. //Uh, huh--just tried. And failed. Good luck.// "Like what? That egg's so hard to crack it may as well be set in stone."  
  
Another smirk, and a sly smile answered her. "Well, they say if you change the temperature really fast, stone cracks like glass. . . There's got to be something."  
  
Light bulbs went off in Noin's head, and she straightened, staring at the far wall as if jolted by a cattle-prod. //By God, that just might do it!//  
  
"Ah. . . Noin? Are you alright?"  
  
"Val, I owe you." With that, Noin leapt to her feet, smiling slowly, and hurried towards the door of the cafeteria.  
  
"Hey--Noin--wha. . .? Hey--Noin! If it has anything to do with Zechs, I don't WANT credit! The man's a fish!" the startled shorter girl called. "And becoming a piranha at that!"  
  
"Exactly!" Noin yelled back before vanishing out the door.  
  
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I remember wondering what the hell I just started.  
  
Then I decided that I was probably better off not knowing.  
  
God was I right!  
  
Ignorance /is/ bliss. . .  
  
IF you can keep some idiot from blowing it!  
  
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Noin passed me the binoculars with an impatient sigh. I just looked at her.  
  
"Why am I using these, again?" I tried, for the fifth time. I couldn't fathom why we were here. No, correction--why /I/ was here. I could feel something was up. Considering Noin was involved, and rumor painted the window under observation as Zechs's, it had to be big.  
  
And that meant I was probably safer anywhere /except/ here.  
  
"Here" consisted of a picnic table bench in the park just behind the dorms.  
  
Hell, I was curious. How could I stay away? I had a trusty camera on the table next to me, and a strong feeling that this was going to be a Kodak moment. Well, probably one Zechs would kill us for. . . I never knew anyone else with so strong an antipathy for visual documentation.  
  
I was currently running on the same rush of adrenaline that the film-crew of Nature documentaries probably felt when trying to get intimate shots of rather hungry man-hating big cats. . . But they always go after the Narrator of those things when riled, right? And Noin was definitely narrating this. . .  
  
Noin finally replied, "I wanted you to see my success." She stole the binoculars from my hands again.  
  
Success. Erm, well, this was Noin, so success was normal. She was, after all, our valedictorian's only rival. Or, best put, his only /serious/ rival. The rest of us were a joke in comparison to the pair of them: toy soldiers. Some of the others liked to pretend they were the real thing-- the rest of us saw no reason to waste our energy.  
  
"Success at what? And why /me/?" I really wanted to know what the heck I was waiting to observe. True, the valedictorian was rather hot, but usually I'm not the peeping kind.  
  
It never felt fair. And I believe in reversed chivalry for the sex-wars. You should give the weaker side a /few/ concessions, after all!  
  
To tell the truth, I never thought /Noin/ was the peeping-kind, either, for that matter. . .  
  
"You gave me the idea for this. Just watch," she told me.  
  
Noin's confidence was /not/ very reassuring. But her words implied no forbidden shows. Not that I'd have minded, but there's cracking an egg, and then there's blowing it up in your own face with TNT. Had Zechs caught anyone peeping at him, my guess his reaction would be the latter. And untraceable back to him as a suspect. Pissing off the perfectionist of trained killers rather screams of suicidal intent, after all. The authorities would probably write it off as such, too.  
  
"Um. . . would it help if I asked just what I'm expected to be looking /for/?" I tried, reaching to pull the binoculars from Noin's grip to peer through. My turn.  
  
She smirked, shook her head, and surrendered them. "It should be any minute now. He's like clockwork."  
  
"Do you mean clockwork, or time bomb?" I countered grumpily. I hate secrets. More so, I hate suspense. Especially when the results could leave witnesses like me permanently silenced.  
  
Thinking about that while I stared into Zechs's bland living room, I sighed. It left a lot to be desired (like a personal touch, something out of place, heck, even a hint of occupation!), but it left one a lot of room for thought while performing surveillance-duty.  
  
On the bright side, if anyone could save me from or valedictorian's wrath, Noin could. And she'd be his first target, not me.  
  
Or so I hoped. Because it also meant she was better at /hiding/ from him than me!  
  
I needn't have worried about the suspense, though. It didn't last long.  
  
Someone screamed.  
  
It took me a minute to realize that the sound was managing to echo through Zechs's closed window. It /sounded/ like it was next to our ears, though. It took me another /five/ to realize that the voice behind all this was, indeed, that of our normally-terse, quiet valedictorian.  
  
By then, he had begun shrieking almost rhythmically in another key that I hadn't thought possible with a male voice-range, let alone one as deep as his.  
  
And you could hear his voice change pitch just about every other half- minute, like clockwork, as Noin had said moments earlier. Speaking of Noin, she was trying to rip the binoculars from my frozen hands and babbling something about wanting to watch. I clung to them with my jaw hanging open and eyes bugging into the lenses.  
  
Good thing, too, or I'd have missed seeing a pale blur dive out of the bathroom like a cat with it's tail on fire, only to slip and slam face- first on the carpeting with a boom that even we could hear.  
  
I winced. That would leave bruises.  
  
"What was that?" Noin demanded, still ripping at the binoculars in my hands.  
  
Like hell I was going to give them up now! "Zechs just smashed face-first into the living room floor. He's trying to get up now. . ."  
  
She snickered.  
  
I had this sudden feeling that Zechs had a lot more coming.  
  
The whole /dorm/ did, actually.  
  
Suddenly, all the sprinklers popped up, and with their activation, every fire-sprinkler in the building before us went crazy. Water gushed out of every open window in the building.  
  
It was an all-male dorm, so of /course/ I was laughing my head off!  
  
I finally let Noin have the binoculars, and grabbed my camera, snapping off shots with barely an attempt at focusing, listening to her laughing commentary amid shrieks of "HOT!!! HOT!!!" followed by "C-cold--COLD!!!" Too bad the background cries were drowning out Zechs's pitiful moans and yelps and the reverberating impacts from his struggling attempts to escape the carnage.  
  
"He's managed to get all but jacket and boots on--he looks like a soggy cat!"  
  
"Whoops! Lucky he didn't break his leg hitting that table there!"  
  
"WOOO! Hey, the man can do the splits, Val! Maybe not /voluntarily/. . ."  
  
Yes, life was good.  
  
Sure, we weren't likely to live past his finding out, but hey, it was worth. . .  
  
Wait a minute. She said it was /my/ idea?!?  
  
I lowered my camera and grabbed the binoculars in a death-grip. "Noin, we have to get the hell out of here before he finds us!!!"  
  
Wise girl, Noin. She laughed, but the pair of us took off for parts unknown. Probably just in time. Going through my photos later, she found one of a soggy-looking Zechs storming down the staircase with frighteningly purposeful steps that had a time listing for right when we grabbed our things to run. I'm glad we didn't see it then. I think I would have fainted--which isn't helpful if you're trying to escape!  
  
Oh, Noin had succeeded--we even had evidence now! The emotionless, quiet, polite mask had cracked.  
  
But Zechs had looked royally pissed.  
  
Ah well. You only live once. May as well make that life count for something big.  
  
And it was for posterity, right?  
  
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More to come! File #2--Zechs doesn't get mad. He gets even. And April Fool's Day prank rules be hanged! 


	2. Who Needs Chivalry When You Have A Monst...

The Fool's War II  
  
File #2: Who Needs Chivalry When You Have A Monster Slingshot?  
  
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Disclaimer--No, I do not own the main characters, but the accessories, yes. And the imagination that put this together--but there's no way any amount of suing can get you that, so HA! Some of the characters are Gundam Wing's, not mine (Bansai and Sunrise, however the guys with the rights call themselves), but Val is definitely original. I do this for fun, or I wouldn't be in grad school trying to get a more paying job!  
  
Notes: it hints slight 6x9, but that could just be wishful thinking. Part of a grouping I'm calling "Reunion Days", which means it can be a sidefic to anything, being but snippets of the two during quieter moments (heh heh-- quiet, surrrrre). . . from the point of the poor Alumni Committee leader for the Graduating Class of AC 191 of Lake Victoria. Humor more than anything else. . .  
  
I couldn't resist.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Now there are some simple rules of courtesy for April Fool's that nobody ever mentions but seem to be inherently ingrained in the holiday itself.  
  
One is that you do not carry the grudge past April Fool's Day.  
  
Another is no low blows.  
  
And another is that you have to be present in person.  
  
Knowing the valedictorian of the Class of AC 191, I breathed a sigh of relief once midnight passed and I found that both I and the photos from Noin's wild rigging of the boys' dorms' water systems were still intact.  
  
Obviously, though, I didn't know Zechs at all. . .  
  
Yeah, well, only Noin probably did!  
  
Not that knowing helped /her/ at all. . .  
  
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Zechs brought binoculars up to his sunglasses, gazing through them out into the shivering heat of the Lake Victoria Academy parking lot in the baking afternoon sun. He blatantly ignored the hot uniform, the burning heat of the tar-and-gravel roof of the science building threatening to barbecue his feet even through thick boots, the impatient rustling of restless recruits behind him. . . //Patience. . . Patience is a virtue. . . Patience is a small price to pay for her making the fire-sprinklers blast hot and cold water alternately like that. . . Patience be hanged! When the hell are they leaving that damn dorm?!?//  
  
It was a Friday night. Officially, on the campus, "Girls' Night Out" was /every/ Friday night. And, being the day after the whole lot of the female species on campus had jury-rigged that nightmare in the boys' dorm under Noin's discrete leadership, they had plenty to celebrate.  
  
The boys had convened on park benches outside their dorm, waiting to dry off and in various states of undress, to come up with a plan. A fair amount of arguing had broken out, with vows towards leveling the girls' dorm building in various ways, but as most of the suggestions involved leveling the rest of Lake Victoria and at times the nearest towns with it, that idea was discarded.  
  
Then, the quiet but shaking with anger valedictorian had proposed reciprocating along the same lines as their own tragedy, and caught every ear towards this, his plan. . .  
  
It involved steel poles and stakes, chalk, hooks, water, binoculars, walkie- talkies, an improvised measurement scale, large rubber bands, small tires, woven baskets, and balloons. /And/ some discrete practicing in the middle of the desert during lunch.  
  
//Too bad all wars can't be fought this way. It's terribly fun, and mostly harmless,// Zechs decided with a twinge of pride, a slight smirk tugging his lips as he continued surveying the parking lot. Behind him and to one side, and likewise on neighboring rooftops, equipment was all set up and ready, waiting, with people standing steady beside them, ready for action. //Noin, you will regret your decision!// he vowed silently, eyes narrowing. . .  
  
And focused on her favorite means of transportation: her motorcycle.  
  
Just as he tended to lead the boys, she tended to lead the girls. And Zechs had every intention of taking advantage of that fact when making her reconsider the wisdom of her earlier leadership.  
  
The doors opened, and laughing, murmuring girls poured out of the building to the right, calling to each other as they made for various vehicles in the lot in groups or pairs, intent on organizing how to get to their favorite watering-holes and hangouts in the nearby town.  
  
//About time!// Without lowering his binoculars, Zechs lifted his radio and pressed the button down calmly despite his rising adrenaline. "Prepare ballistics," he commanded softly.  
  
Behind him, dorm-mates scurried into a flurry of activity, loading a basket, drawing it back and hooking it into place.  
  
Icy blue eyes narrowed at Noin's bike, and carefully calculated the distance, the lack of wind, the difference in height compared to their current position. . .  
  
//You know, Physics Class actually has a purpose in life, I think. . .//  
  
"Station Two, do you have the white Corsica targeted?"  
  
Static crackled. "Roger."  
  
"Station Three--the red Mustang, if you will."  
  
"Yes Sir!"  
  
"Station Four, take the red Jeep in the back row."  
  
"Aye, Captain!"  
  
"Station Five, the blue BMW roadster, and yes, I mean the convertible that's open."  
  
Wicked chuckles echoed on the roof behind him as well as through the static. "Will do!"  
  
"Station Six, keep that white van clear."  
  
"You can count on us, Sir!"  
  
"The rest of you--take everyone else down. . . except for Miss Noin. Leave her to us."  
  
A chorus of amused laughs and affirmatives answered him, even as he lowered the radio again, bringing binoculars down with it, and turned to look at his own team.  
  
//My first command. . . Don't let me down, boys!// Seeing all at ready, he nodded his approval, and smiled a little at their eager, proud grins, the sweat-soaked uniforms and nervous tapping of feet and hands, the excitement gleaming in young, innocent (not for long!) eyes. . . "Leave the special ammo until I call for it. Setting--three fingers down, one step left, three steps back, but be ready to change quickly. Any questions before we start?"  
  
Nods answered him, followed by widening grins as the equipment adjusted almost instantly to his specifications.  
  
With a smile of his own, Zechs turned back to the parking lot, binoculars up, and lifted the radio again. "First volley is together, then each at his own pace. On three, boys--then we give 'em what they deserve!" he commanded eagerly.  
  
"Yes Sir!" the chorus returned.  
  
Ah yes, Noin was almost there. . .  
  
//She's never going to forgive me for this. . . She loves that thing like a child. . .//  
  
"Ready."  
  
Hooks were removed from where they held rubber bands in place, replaced by straining fingers and heels digging into the rough roof surface hard enough to leave marks.  
  
Ten feet. . .  
  
//If it ends up scratched or dinged, my hide will probably match by nightfall. . .//  
  
"Aim. . ."  
  
Final adjustments, mostly fine-tuning for perfect aim, were made at a couple stations. The rest held steady, waiting.  
  
//Hell, my hide's already marked--my left side is still scalded red by those hot gusts of water, and the rest of me is going to be black and blue for the rest of the month! This does NOT compare in any way to that!//  
  
Three feet. Noin was reaching for the handlebars.  
  
Zechs Marquise smirked mischievously.  
  
//I haven't forgiven /her/. So we'll be even.//  
  
"FIRE!!!!!!!!"  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---  
  
Well, for me, it wasn't as bad as for others.  
  
My Corsica needed a wash anyway.  
  
/I/, however, did not!  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----  
  
A huge water-balloon smashed into Noin just as she was swinging her leg to mount her bike, sending both crashing to the pavement in a sudden wave of water!  
  
Screams of surprise, horror, and fury arose all over the parking lot as the girls were bombed by drenching ammunition by the ton, almost literally. Cars were almost wiped clean by the onslaught. People were bowled completely off their feet by the heavy--but not physically harmful-- attacks.  
  
Zechs smiled.  
  
//Ah, the element of surprise. But really, did they /really/ think we were just going to take that lying down? I'm probably the /only/ pacifist on this campus, after all, even if in secret--so even /I/ can hardly let their attack pass!//  
  
Then new military skills were called into play. . .  
  
On /both/ sides!  
  
Girls ducked behind vehicles, using them as shields, weaving between them for cover, even as Val tried to rescue the (luckily waterproof) schoolbag with the photos of their misadventures and Noin struggled to untangle herself from her beloved bike.  
  
//Hmm. . . Have to adjust the distance a bit.// "Station Two--aim for the bag!"  
  
Zechs lowered his radio, and barked to his own team, "/Four/ fingers down, one step left, three back--FIRE!" all without a pause for breath.  
  
Snap. Shuffle. /Twwwaaaannng!/  
  
Noin screeched in fury, knocked flat by another water-balloon just as she was getting to her feet!  
  
//She'll take cover next,// he predicted, relaying his next order even before finishing the thought, the calculations already completed in the back of his head. "Seven fingers down, two steps left, two-and-a-half back- -FIRE!"  
  
Noin rolled behind the trunk of a neighboring Ford Taurus just in time to get smacked from high above by another water-balloon!  
  
//Heh. Good old Noin.// Zechs Marquise smirked, and repeated the command.  
  
Another shriek announced that Noin hadn't managed to crawl quite out of the way fast enough.  
  
//Now, for my next target, while she's pinned. . .// Zechs lowered his binoculars, and smiled slowly at the open window of Noin's dorm room. //To repay the ruin of my room. . .//  
  
"Yellow ammo! Five fingers down, four steps /right/, two steps back-- FIRE!"  
  
The bright red balloon arced nicely right over the sill and splattered with an audible, wet snapping sound as thin rubber met the floor and burst.  
  
Noin peeked over the trunk of the Ford Taurus, curious and concerned by the sound.  
  
//She won't know until later, however. . . ,// Zechs knew, feeling smug.  
  
Before she could move from her protection, however, Zechs re-corrected the angle and trajectory, and had another couple volleys sent to drench her again.  
  
//Now, for the bike again. . . something special. The lime green, I think,// the valedictorian of AC 191 decided with all the eager finesse of a wine connoisseur picking the right beverage for dinner. //If it's worth doing at all, it's worth doing right the first time!//  
  
"Green ammo!" he snapped sharply, "Three fingers down, one step left, three steps back!"  
  
Noin must have felt some kind of trepidation concerning the brief pause it took for his men to load the different water-balloons, because Zechs saw her head peek around the rear bumper of the car warily, looking directly at them.  
  
And he heard her bellow his name with such carrying volume as to make their drill sergeant proud.  
  
"ZECHS!!!"  
  
//Yes. Who else, my dear?// the young man chuckled softly to himself.  
  
"FIRE!"  
  
The green water-balloon floated gently through the air like a spray-painted goose, and laid its egg squarely in the middle of Noin's favorite, much- loved, painstakingly-restored 1918 ex-World-War-I German motorbike.  
  
The bike turned bright green, covered with military-issue lime-green paint.  
  
"NOOOO!!!!!" Noin wailed.  
  
"Good shot," Zechs commented to his crew with calm sincerity, unphased by the vocal fury below their perch. //Perfect hit!//  
  
"Zechs, I'm going to /kill/ you!!!" Noin was standing over her green bike with hands balled into fists, waving one at him in particular.  
  
//You have to reach me first, Noin. . . You look nice, actually, even soggy like a drowned cat. . . // But the next order of business was to organize a safe retreat that would spare the lives of his men.  
  
The young officer lifted his radio to lips again. "Begin the retreat! Fire all remaining ammo and dismantle the slingshots--leave NOTHING! And do not get caught! We rendezvous in Hanger A in thirty minutes!" he barked, leaving no room for error.  
  
In response, all slingshots filled baskets to the brim and loosed indiscriminately on the parking lot below. Any progress by furious girls below dragged to a halt under the ensuing bombardment.  
  
"RED AMMO!" Zechs roared, calling for the final--and worst--weapon in his arsenal. "Six fingers down, half-a-step left, two back!"  
  
Noin had leapt to her feet and was now running between cars for the building Zechs stood on, dodging like a wild creature under aerial attack, head down and determined, her expression promising an unhappy ending should she catch any of the culprits responsible for this unexpected assault in the parking lot.  
  
//I may have to buy the others time. . . But will I survive her anger?// Zechs wondered fatalistically.  
  
He waited until she had to run between a Plymouth Neon and a restored maroon Camero, then commanded, "FIRE!"  
  
Noin's next dodge was smack into the path of the red balloon--it splattered on her shoulders, staggering her, coating her with slimy, watery, neon- green glop!  
  
She slid to a halt, lifting slimy hands with incredulous dismay and horror, then looked up, directly at the young man with long pale hair, and set slimy hands on hips, glaring.  
  
//That seems to have stopped her anger,// Zechs chuckled to himself silently. He smiled down at her smugly, sunglasses gleaming in the bright afternoon light, even as he snapped his next command. "Dismantle and go. I'll find you at the rendezvous point. . ."  
  
"Noin's got to be pretty pissed," one of his crew commented sympathetically, the others nodding in agreement even as they hastily pulled the supporting and locking steel rods from the roof and unhooked the launching rubber, eyeing the door to the stairwell warily, as if expecting her to bust in on them at any second.  
  
"I'll take care of her. Get out of here!"  
  
"Yes Sir!" With that, they fled.  
  
Zechs followed them down at a slightly slower pace, and stopped behind the Science building, arms folded across his chest, to wait. . .  
  
//I am responsible. Let's see where this takes us. . .//  
  
He didn't have to wait long.  
  
Noin stormed out of the building, and stopped at the sight of him, her uniform soaked with slimy goo so it looked as if some kind of oversized strange goose egg had cracked right over her head.  
  
"You. . . !" she growled.  
  
Zechs nodded serenely. "Yes," he acknowledged. //But of course.//  
  
Her teeth ground audibly. "If my bike is so much as /scratched/. . . !" she threatened.  
  
Internally, he chuckled again. //If it is? You can hardly scald me there again. I already hurt like hell.// But he was her friend--and she was his best friend. . . his only true friend, except, perhaps, for Treize. "I'll pay for it," he offered without a second thought. "But we're even now."  
  
Noin's bright, usually-warm eyes blinked at him, anger draining out of them as if he'd pulled the plug on it. Then she smiled. "Almost," she corrected quietly.  
  
A pale eyebrow quirked at her. //I don't like the sound of that. . . But then, she hasn't seen her room yet, either.// "Almost?" he echoed, lips twitching into a slight smile.  
  
Noin slowly walked closer. . .  
  
Closer. . .  
  
Right up to him. . .  
  
And /hugged/ Zechs.  
  
//So much for my uniform,// he laughed to himself, arms hesitantly, awkwardly wrapping around her in reciprocation of the gesture, ignoring how the slime on her uniform mixed with the sweat on his own. //That's another ruined uniform, I guess. . . But this is worth it!//  
  
Noin smiled up at him from in his arms, laughing softly. "/Now/ we're even. . ."  
  
//Yes,// Zechs answered gently, looking down at her, feeling a warmth stir in his heart that he hadn't felt in a long time, a warmth he had thought might never be his again. "Until /next/ year," he added with a warm smirk.  
  
Noin laughed with him this time. . .  
  
They were still like that when the Val snapped their photo with a water- proofed camera.  
  
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You never know how luck will turn out, I think.  
  
I love the local souvenir shop in Lake Victoria, though--they're SO good to me!  
  
After all, if they hadn't run out of loose film and the other snap-and- pitch cameras there that day, and forced me to get a water-proof Kodak snapper, I'd never have managed to record anything of that event!  
  
Well, after that, you can bet I've demanded that all other future conspiracies have someone documenting them from the inside.  
  
Since then, you'd be amazed at the high compliance!  
  
And also, it's probably a good thing that I've made sure I'm VERY good at running since Noin's attack on the boys' dorm. . .  
  
I swear, those two are so picture-shy it's frightening! At least for the photographer.  
  
**Cheshire-cat smiles.** You just have to make sure they don't catch you!  
  
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That's it--for now, on the pranks at least! Might be more sometime, but not soon. Hope you enjoyed it. Let me know if you did! Encouragement helps! 


End file.
